Sharp As A Tack

Note: I wrote this blog post a couple of years ago for my other blog, Confessions of a Car Man. (I have since deleted all non-car business posts from that blog.) I present it here for your enjoyment.


I’m rapidly approaching the time of my life when people will refer to me as “sharp as a tack”. This label is usually attached to an older person who has a full grasp of what’s going on around him. The term is meant as a compliment, but if you think about it, it’s a sad day when people have to compliment you on your ability to reason.

What brought this to my mind was a conversation with my mechanic friend, Tim Robbins. Tim, who shuns the moniker of technician, is also sharp as a tack, but he’s in his mid-thirties so this is a state of being that is still standard equipment. I find him a great foil for expressing my sometimes way-out-there musings.

On one particular hot August day I was ranting about my most recent health issue as being a preview of coming attractions of old age. The “David Teves Mortality Tour”, I dubbed it. I am currently issuing back stage passes for my fans. “Access All Areas” they say. With this pass you have complete freedom to roam about back stage and hang out with the band so to speak.

Along with heart, hypertension, diabetes, and general state of ennui, life has been sending a yearly health bomb as if to remind me that my days are numbered. A year or so ago I developed a condition called, “Bell’s Palsy”. This delightful disorder causes half your face to become paralyzed, your arm to hurt like hell and a speech impediment also from hell. The whole package screams “Igor” to friends and family and those ups that were forced to face me on the lot.

Luckily, this is not a life-threatening disability. Oh it takes about a year to clear up, but eventually most of it goes away. The only residual effects are one dry eye and a nostril that likes to twitch for no apparent reason. All and all not the most delightful of experiences.

My most recent adventure into reminders of my mortality is a condition known as “Labyrinthitis”. This disorder is a virus that attacks your inner ear. It cannot be treated. Like Bells Palsy it will go away on its own in time. It came on me suddenly the morning after my granddaughter, Brooke, was born. I woke up in a hotel room in Jackson, California with the room spinning to the right like a top. (I wonder if I were in Australia would the room spin to the left?) Suddenly I was four years old spinning myself into a dizzy, a child’s first attempt at getting high.

I spent the next week, ironically a vacation week, barely able to walk. Over the last month, the symptoms have receded sometimes making a return engagement at the end of my workweek. Like the palsy this will pass, but I wonder if it will leave any long-lasting reminders of its visit.

I’m talking about this not to bitch. Well, I guess I am bitching. I won’t go into the depressing details of what goes around in my mind when visited by these maladies, but it does make me wonder what the hell is next.

The scary part is that when in the clutches of dizziness, I am no longer as sharp as a tack. Write a blog entry? Hell, I’m lucky to be able to watch an episode of “Ice Road Truckers”. I forget what I’m saying, names of people I love and have a hard time putting a few words together in a logical sequence.

I suppose you know where I’m going with this: Alzheimer’s disease. I once knew a man, now passed on to that great used car lot in the sky, who liked to say, “Having Alzheimer’s isn’t too bad. You get to meet new friends every day!” I have no idea if that’s in my future. There isn’t shit I can do about it if it is. I suppose writing will help me keep the brain cells circulating for a few more years, but I’ve been clearly given the idea that the end of the demo ride is in sight.

Guess I’d better try to lay away a few people while I still have the time.